Meeting Mr Watney
by BeccaRN
Summary: A journal-style story of an original character nurse and the main man. Rated T for language. May change to M with later chapters. This is my first writing EVER so please don't crucify me. I have many degrees, none of which are in English :) I welcome comments/suggestions.
If I am going to tell this story I might as well introduce myself. So Hi, I'm Becca. Like most children at some point in time, I dreamed of being an astronaut. But a genetic predisposition to asthma and a later developed fear of heights nixed that childhood dream. So it was quite a surprise to me how life works out, I am NASA contracted employee, in a job that keeps me on the ground.

Compared to the career of astronaut, I took a more practical route. Like my mother, and her mother before her, I went to nursing school. Kinda the thing to do in my family. Starting with my A.S. Degree, I started working as a surgical nurse as I continued my education, obtaining my BSN, MSN and finally my PhD and certification as a nurse practitioner. I hate when people call me Doctor. If I wanted to be a doctor I would have went to medical school. I am a nurse and damn proud of it. It was my mentor in my PhD program that suggested I apply for a contracted position with NASA. At that time, I was unaware that NASA even employed nurse practitioners, although now it makes sense. We are cheaper than physicians, with better outcomes, and someone has to sign off that the astronaut candidates are in flying health. So I applied to the position opening, not entirely sure what the position would entail.

So here I am now. 5 years later. Living the dream. Okay maybe life isn't that great, but I don't have a bad gig. Benefits, steady hours, tuition reimbursement and all that jazz. I work with the ARES program. You know, the guys (and gals) that hope to go to MARS. Fucking crazies for sure. My basic job is repetitive. NASA selects potential candidates. Candidates have many evaluations to complete before final selections are made. Fail the psych eval, they are out, Fail the fitness exam, eliminated. The medical physical is where I come in. I (and my team of nurses and techs) am responsible for ensuring each candidate is 100% healthy for space travel. It is a systematic yet grouling process. Numerous blood samples are analyzed. EKGs are completed. It always pains me to fail an applicant. The crushed look gets to me every time. Sometimes it is an abnormal heart rhythm that the candidate was unaware of. Sometimes it is a detected disease that the candidate failed to disclose, hoping in vain it would go unnoticed. Regardless, worst part of my job is having to be the dream crusher.

I heard through the grapevine (unofficially) that I am up for a promotion, lead clinician for the ARES III crew. Basically I would be in charge of the 6-man crews total health evaluation pre-launch (the flight surgeon would handle issues while in space).

So, I pretty much kick ass. Rumors were correct. I am now the head medical bitch. I also got a promotion and my own office. I've heard they are making the final crew selections today, so my new gig officially starts tomorrow. But tonight, I celebrate with Pizza.

What did I get myself into? * **I will not crush on the cute astronaut.**I will not crush on the cute astronaut.*.** I mean, I don't even know if he is single. THAT information is not in his medical file. Plus I am sure it would be weird, dating someone I know everything about (down to sperm count). He is cute though. Fuck.

Ok, so far so good. I've remained professional. I am a professional dammit. I've assigned any below-the-waist exams to my coworker for my own sanity. We did have a nice chat today about the unseasonably chilly weather here in Florida. Turns out he is from Chicago.

I really enjoy chatting with the entire crew between taking medical histories, waiting for test results, and taking samples. They are a very close-knit group. Seem like a big family. They have jokes for sure. 25 days until launch.

Being medical I don't get inside information on the astronauts, so I have to ask if I want to know specifics about the crew. Turns out he is a Botanist. When he told me I laughed. I thought he was fucking joking. I didn't know Botanists were astronauts. (Just like I didn't know nurses worked at NASA!). Hopefully he wasn't too offended. He seems to have a good sense of humor. I love a good sense of humor.

Let me just say the commander is a bad ass bitch. I wish I had half the lady balls she has. Even if I COULD go into space, I would never do it. I am pretty fond of earth and gravity and air and all that. 22 days until launch.

NASA is having a gala prior to the launch. They do it with every launch, I guess it is good for publicity and fund raising. Very formal affair. I've always skipped, but now attendance is expected with my pay grade. I guess dress-shopping is in order.

20 days until launch, 5 days until the gala. So far everything is a go as far as medical is concerned. Any medical issue would cause a delay of launch, so I am keeping my fingers and toes crossed. The majority of testing and exams have been completed, there will be a final assessment the week before launch, and then my job is complete.

Stacy (my medical assistant and work wife) has been pushing me to make a move on Watney. YOLO and women taking control and all that. Not going to happen. Call my old fashioned, but I wait for the guy. Not to mention he is technically my patient, it would be frowned upon to hit on him. I'll settle for our humorous conversations. I do look forward to out discussions of what constitutes real science.

So tonight is the gala. I am not a huge people person, but I'll at least make an appearance. Plus I hear there is an open bar. I haven't had a drink in years, mainly because I dislike the taste of most alcohol, but I may need a drink to get through tonight.

I'm not sure where to start. The gala was...interesting. At first I was dying, room full of elderly men with money and political influence. Of course as a quasi-NASA employee, I'm expected to kiss ass in hopes of continued financial support. I immediately hit the bar and asked for something fruity. I don't know what it was, but it tasted mildly like cherry and it was strong. As I sipped, the crew appeared on stage. Watney gave a speech. Whomever put him in charge of public relations for the crew was smoking crack. I caught the f-bomb at least twice. For a second I thought Annie with PR was having a heart attack, I almost went for the AED. Next to speak was the director of NASA. With attention on the stage, I took the opportunity to slip outside. My lips were dry from kissing ass, I needed a break.

The gala was held at a local hotel. One I was familiar with in that my high school prom was held at the same hotel 11 years prior, as well as numerous wedding receptions over the years. From experience, I knew there was a rooftop garden, so I headed for the elevator.

I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts (and lack of sleep) I didn't notice I wasn't alone until the elevator doors closed. "Going up?" My passenger asked.

"Watney!" I gasped. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry", he replied. I just needed a break. "Never liked large crowds."

"Same here. Come on, I know somewhere we can hide for awhile".

We made our way to the rooftop. He held the door open for me. It was a warm night, the sun had set hours before and the sky was clear, so the stars were too numerous to count. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

He broke the silence first. "You know, Martinez has been bugging me for weeks to ask you out". "Told me I'm an astronaut, girls love astronauts," he said laughing.

"Hmm. Really. So what did you tell him?"

"That for all he knew you were married, and on the off chance you were single, I'm sure NASA frowns upon astronauts dating the doctors".

"Nurse. But technically, I'm a contract employee that just happens to work at NASA. And your pre-flight medical file is complete. You are officially Beck's patient now". He smiled.

"Well, I know this is horrible timing, with the whole MARS thing and all, but would you like to have dinner sometime? I mean when I get back".

Now, those who know me know I have no real life outside of work, and no prospects, so when a cute, intelligent, funny, single male member of the human species that just happens to be an astronaut asks me out, I am going to take him up on it, even if I have to wait.

"I'll wait for you". I replied. He took my hands. His were strong and warm. Manly. He kissed my forehead. "We better get back before they send out a search party" he stated, still holding my hands. I found myself wishing for more, yet knowing he was right. He was leaving in 2 days. I could wait. Patience is a virtue, right.

We headed back. We entered separately, as to not start rumors, although I caught a smirk on Martinez's face as I entered, and I knew he was on to us.

I didn't see Watney the next day. I didn't have an official reason to, and with less than 48 hours to launch, the team was busy with last minutes checks and meetings. In fact, I didn't expect to see him again until news coverage picked up of the launch. So I was shocked when my doorbell rang at 10pm that night.

I saw Watney through my peephole, hands in pockets rocking back and forth nervously.

"Mark?" What are you doing here? Wait, how do you know where I live? Never mind, just come inside it is pouring pain".

He was wearing jeans and a grey NASA pullover hoodie. Casual but cute.

"Sorry, I asked Johanssen to hack into the employee database and find your address. I had to see you before we leave. I've missed seeing you and our daily chats."

"And now that I saw that, it sounds completely creepy".

"I've missed you too".

He leaned in for a kiss, on the lips this time. Mark is taller than me, tall enough that I stood on my toes for a better angle. His arms wrapped around my back, further lifting me to his lips. I could feel the warmth from him throughout my entire body. I placed one hand on his muscular chest, and ran one through his hair, giving it a sexy yet disheveled look. We finally broke for air. I laid my head on his chest, his arms still wrapped around me. Letting go was going to be hard.


End file.
